


Till Death

by sbdrag



Series: Kuroshitsuji Crack Love [3]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angels, Dark, Demons, M/M, Shinigami, life and death, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final installment in my BardxSebastian series.</p><p>Bard finds out he only has a month until he dies. Being a shinigami's descendant, he has the choice to become a shinigami if he so wishes. But... is that what he wants? He isn't so sure.</p><p>But, as the time gets closer and closer, old friends and past demons start showing up, and Bard finds he has less time to think than he had assumed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bard took deep breaths. The morning air was crisp, biting at his heated skin as he ran.

It was an old habit that he’d started getting back into recently. Running in the morning fog, just to keep in shape. But it helped clear his head, and sometimes he just needed that. Especially with all the thoughts he was only really half having during the day. Usually, right when he felt on to something, he would be interrupted by a raven-haired butler and forget what it was he’d been trying to figure out. Typically involving said butler, and the relationship they shared. 

Bard shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that now; that was the whole point of coming out to run. Even Sebastian seemed to understand that he needed his space when he went out this early, and thinking of the butler now would be like inviting the man to come with him. Which, of course, would cause him to lose his time to unwind. And, judging by how the last fight had went, Bard was well aware of the fact that he needed time to relax.

The cook slowed as he saw a figure in the mist. He jogged to stop, giving the man a once over. Black suit, glasses, black gloves and bright green eyes. Shinigami eyes.

“Bardroy C. Lewin?” the man asked, pushing his glasses up on one side. Panting lightly, Bardroy nodded.

“That’s me,” he said. The shinigami nodded, then held out a manila envelope. Bard stared, then took it gingerly, carefully turning it in his hands. The shinigami turned on his heel and made to leave. “This means a month, right?”

“Yes,” the shinigami paused. “You have that long to decide.”

“…understood,” Bard said, tucking the envelope under his arm. He didn’t watch the shinigami disappear into the mist as he jogged back to the mansion. He jogged around to the servants’ entrance, slipping into the still quiet manor. As he passed by the kitchen, he noticed Sebastian preparing Ciel’s morning tea service. It was too early for it, really, unless the young master was getting up early for something. Which could be the case, as far as the cook knew.

“Did you have an enjoyable run?” Sebastian asked without turning. Bard sighed through his nose, leaning against the doorframe. He debated a moment before speaking.

“Yeah, it was good,” he said. Sebastian paused, and Bard subconsciously held his breath. The demon knew he was hiding something; that much he had been expecting. Now he just hoped that the butler would let him have his secret, at least for the time being. He wasn’t ready for this discussion, not yet. He relaxed when Sebastian returned to his work.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, only slightly clipped. Bard grunted in reply, heading up to the servant’s quarters. He didn’t spend much time there anymore, but he couldn’t exactly hide the envelope in Sebastian’s room, so the servant’s quarters it would be. He peeked inside cautiously. It looked like Finnian and Tanaka were still asleep. Bard tiptoed in, closing the door behind him softly. He went to his bed and, quietly as possible, slid the envelope under the mattress. Then, just for show, he opened a few drawers. He knew it wouldn’t last long as a deception, but it would work for now. 

Getting dressed, he debated what to do about the situation. He had two choices; fill out the paperwork and become a shinigami upon his death, or don’t fill out the paperwork and go to whatever afterlife was meant for him. As far as that went, he had no illusions. Being the lover of a demon, as well as basically a hired killer, made the result kind of obvious. Most people would probably have already filled out the paperwork. But… Bard needed a second opinion. And so he came to a decision. 

***

“Isn’t this something you should be asking Sebastian?” Ciel asked, irritated. Bard scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, yeah, but… eh,” the cook said, giving the young earl a pleading look. Ciel glared.

“Bardroy, if this is due to some petty quarrel-“

“It’s nothing like that!” Bard said quickly, holding up his hands. Then he sighed as Ciel looked at him expectantly. “It’s just… it’s personal, and I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You can’t expect me to accept that as a reason.”

“Well, young master, I’d be happy to tell ya, the reason, but he could hear it.”

“… fine. A week, and no more,” Ciel said, turning in his chair. Bard sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” he said, then turned an left the room. He made it to the end of the hallway before he was pulled around the corner and pressed into the wall. He met Sebastian’s questioning gaze levelly. For a few moments, neither of them moved.

“London?”

“Family matter.”

“… I see.”

“… sorry. I just… can’t; not right now, anyways.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“… fine.”

Sebastian leaned forward and kissed him softly. Bard sighed into it, wishing he could explain what was going on. But he was too unsure right now; he didn’t want to know what the butler thought when he still didn’t know what to think. He needed to come to a decision before he told anyone else about this. Especially Sebastian.

The demon pulled away, giving Bard one more intense look before walking around the corner. The cook didn’t move for a moment, letting the wall take his weight. He sighed, then pushed away and headed to the servants’ quarters once more. He needed to pack for his trip, and to leave before his resolve faltered. 

***

“Bard’s leaving?” Finnian asked. Sebastian sighed at the boy’s overreaction.

“Only for a week, on family business,” the butler said. Saying the lie stung, but only because he didn’t know the truth. It irritated him. What could possibly be so important that it couldn’t be shared with him? Had he suddenly become untrustworthy?

“I hope everything’s alright…” Mayrin said, putting a hand to her mouth. Sebastian fought back his irritated sigh. Maybe he’d done something… wrong. He’d seen enough human relationships to believe he imitated them perfectly… although usually when he attempted this he was rebuffed and told to act like himself…

“What kind of family business do you think it is?” Finnian asked. So perhaps he had done something wrong. He wasn’t exactly accustomed to seriously courting his partner… especially after already having sex. Not that there had being anything usual about how this relationship had come about. He was, all things considered, doing the entire thing backwards…

“I haven’t the slightest idea. Oh, but didn’t he mention something about having family in the city that last time?” Mayrin replied. Finnian nodded. Was that the problem? That he was acting in the courtship role too late, and it had cause some sort of regression in their intimacy? No, he should be more specific. They had been physically intimate for quite some time, but emotionally speaking, that intimacy had only just begun. So was he perhaps jumping the gun in assuming he’d done something wrong?

“Yeah! The other time Bard and Mr. Sebastian were fighting!” Finnian said. Sebastian, lost in his thoughts, had tuned the two servants out, and missed Mayrin’s jump as she covered the boy’s mouth and pulled him aside. She whispered furiously into his ear, but Sebastian was wrapped in his reverie. 

Maybe he hadn’t done something wrong, maybe they just weren’t that close, emotionally speaking, for Bardroy to speak to him on the matter. Whatever the matter was. But why would that be? Again, he was brought to the dilemma of what could be so important; what could make the man so serious and weighted down in such a short period of time? It had to do with whatever had happened on his morning run, and the envelope he had failed to hide. Which was somewhere in the servants’ quarters, if he didn’t think to take it with him. That was it! He would have to find the offending item before the man left…

Sebastian looked up from his thoughts to Mayrin looking sheepish and Finnian determined. 

“…yes?” he asked. Mayrin kept her eyes on the floor, blushing as Finnian spoke.

“Mr. Sebastian, did you and Bard have a fight again?”

Sebastian stared. For all he’d thought he’d known, the other servants were unaware of he and Bard’s relationship. And he knew the cook hadn’t told them, so then…? He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to know.

“No, that is not the case, and would ask that you refrain from asking such questions in the future,” he said. Finnian, naïve as he was, didn’t even look ashamed. He just nodded and smiled.

“Well, at least it’s not something like that!” he said. Sebastian blinked, then decided to let it go. He sent the gardener and maid off to their tasks, then checked on Ciel before heading to the servants’ quarters. Listening, he knew Bard was in the room currently. It seemed he was truly leaving immediately. Sebastian debated a moment; he could wait to search the room until after he’d left, or he could take a chance that the man hadn’t yet packed the envelope and provide a… distraction. It was hard to tell which option would yield the best results, but his thoughts were cut short as Bard emerged from the room. He was already out of his uniform, a rucksack over his shoulder. Making a quick decision, the butler hid. Bard shut the door behind him and left none the wiser.

Waiting until he could no longer be heard, the butler walked forward and slipped into the room. He spent only moments quietly checking each drawer in the room. When he didn’t find the envelope, he paused in the center of the room, considering. It couldn’t be too obvious; the cook knew him better than that. Perhaps under a loose floorboard? As he was about to check, he heard the bell to the master’s study ring in the kitchen. He sighed, then turned. It would have to wait, then.

***

Bard made his way from the manor to the street. He walked a ways until he came across a hay cart headed towards the city. Catching a ride, he dozed most of the way. He hadn’t been getting much sleep lately; that, and sleeping made it easier not to think. About an hour’s walk outside the city, the cart owner dropped him off. Bard thanked the man and tipped him, then headed off. It was late afternoon by the time he got into the city.

He walked aimlessly for a bit, letting his feet carry him as he took in the semi-familiar sights. It was a quiet day, it seemed, which was comforting. It meant there was less chance that the Earl Phantomhive would be called to the city on business. By the time the man reached the inner city, the sky was red with the sunset, almost as if it had been stained by blood. Bard wondered if there was something wrong in finding it beautiful even with the mental image. 

As the light was slowly ebbing beneath the horizon, Bard found himself at his destination. He looked up at the sign and sighed. Then, stealing himself, he strode in.

“Hm? Oh, I was wondering when you’d come to see me,” the Undertaker said, smiling behind the counter of his shop. Bard smiled bittersweetly back.

“Hey, gramps, think you can put me for a bit?” he asked. Undertaker nodded, gliding around to meet him half way through the shop.

“Of course, of course~” he sang, leading Bard to the stairwell hidden in the back. “But what is my darling grandson here to see me for? Had a row with your lover?”

“… I got my paperwork today.”

The Undertaker paused, then nodded again, continuing.

“I see, I see,” he crooned. “No wonder you came to see me.”

“Sorry it wasn’t just a social visit.”

“Nonsense! I’m always happy when my grandkids come to see me,” Undertaker said as they climbed down the stairs. He showed Bard to a guest room, kept tidy if for an extra coffin or two.

“Well, I wish it was a social visit,” Bard said, slinging his pack to the ground. Undertaker sighed, still smiling.

“That’s only natural, I suppose,” he said. Then he bounced into his typical chipper self. “Well, why don’t you rest up, and we’ll talk about it in the morning, hm~?”

“…yeah, that sounds good, gramps,” he said. Undertaker nodded, waving as he whirled out the door. Bard sighed, laying back on the almost new bed. He stared at the dark ceiling, wondering what exactly tomorrow would bring. 

***

The woman giggled, arranging the pieces on the table until they formed a letter ‘E’. She practically purred, admiring her handiwork. Then she grabbed her dress from the floor, slipping into it with minimal difficulty. She glided to the man lying face down on the bed, smoothing his hair back and kissing his temple.

“Thanks for the contribution, love,” she said. Then she giggled again, not bothering to cover the long tear in his back where she had ripped out his spine; the vertebrae licked clean and arranged oh so carefully on the table. With one last look around the room, the woman went to the window. She was three stories up, but it didn’t seem to deter her. With a final giggle, she leapt, landing lightly on her feet. Rising, she purred into the night, sashaying down the alley like a cat that got in the cream. 

Or, at the very least, one confident they were going to get it.


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian looked over the familiar missive that had been delivered at the door. A letter from the Queen; the Earl would be pleased. The butler set the letter on its tray, finishing his preparations of the young lord’s afternoon tea service. He wheeled the cart through the quiet manor. He sighed almost unperceivably. Without the occasional explosion, the house seemed even quieter than usual. No, that wasn’t quite it, was it? It had yet to even be a day, and already he was… anxious. It wasn’t simply that his lover was gone; no, he wasn’t so pathetic that the problem could be something so paltry. It was the reason why said lover was missing, or rather, lack thereof. Sebastian’s search of the floorboards had been fruitless, and he hadn’t time to check further that day. The butler found himself secretly hoping the letter took them to London. He had to laugh at himself for that; it had been a long time since he had bothered to hope for something.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Sebastian said as he entered Ciel’s study. The young Earl was asleep in his chair. Sebastian sighed. Wheeling the cart off to the side, he took the letter and left it in clear view. There was little else he could do at the moment. He left the cart in the unlikely case that Ciel would waken soon enough to demand a snack, and then slipped out of the room. Finding himself indisposed, he decided to check over the servants’ quarters once more. He checked the obvious places once more, just in case he had missed something. He checked under the man’s bed, then the other two as well. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked around the room with a frown. He waited for inspiration to hit him, mentally checking all the hiding places available. He began a more thorough search of the bed, checking under the pillow, in the sheets, under the mattress… nothing. He must have taken the envelope with him, then. Well, it was a long shot to begin with.

“Sebastian.”

He heard Ciel call his name from the Earl’s study. With inhuman speed, Sebastian moved to bow in front of his master.

“Yes, my young lord?” he asked, smiling. Ciel had the letter in his hand, with photographs spread in the desk in front of him. It was still afternoon, though later than it had been. 

“Prepare to leave for London immediately. It seems there’s a serial killer on the loose, and Her Majesty has asked that I look into the matter,” the Earl said. Sebastian rose, trying not to appear too pleased.

“How troublesome for her Majesty,” he said, almost habitually. Ciel snorted.

“Whoever it is has the police completely fooled, not that that’s much of an accomplishment,” he said as Sebastian approached the desk. The demon looked at the pictures, eyes widening in mild surprise. “Despite mountains of evidence, all their suspects have plausible alibis, and besides them, no one saw what happened to the men that have fallen victim to this person.”

“They seem to be leaving a message,” Sebastian said, moving to stand at Ciel’s side. So far, the pictures depicted the victim’s bones spelling out “I A M H E”. Ciel nodded.

“I can’t believe the fools waited until the fifth case before connecting the victims,” he said. “It seems the first victim was in Liverpool, the second in Manchester, the third in Oxford and the last two in London. A detective from Liverpool followed the killer here, and he seems to be the only reason the cases were connected at all.”

“A tragic boon, to be sure,” the butler said, running through preparations in his head. Ciel, collecting the pictures as well as the letter, shrugged.

“Whatever the case, it’s my responsibility now. I expect to be ready to leave within the hour,” he said. Sebastian blinked in surprise.

“We won’t reach the city until nightfall, my lord, are you not concerned?” he asked, half mocking. Ciel smiled cruelly. 

“What do I have to be concerned about? Besides, this killer only targets adult men.”

***

“Hm, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this paperwork before~” Undertaker said, looking through the stack on the counter of his shop. Bard, moving a coffin to stand against the wall, snorted.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me…” he said. Undertaker merely hummed, skimming through the pages.

“Some of these questions seem pretty interesting… oh ho ho~ I wonder what they’ll think of the answers…”

“What are ya talking about now?” Bard asked, moving another coffin. “And by the way, havin’ me doing manual labor for yer lazy ass wasn’t really why I came here, ya know…”

“Oh ho ho, but you don’t really want to talk about this yet, do you?” Undertaker asked. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have, Bardroy, but, you see, you haven’t asked any.”

“Yeah, well, what the hell am I supposed to ask?” Bard said, walking over to the counter.

“Now that’s a question I can’t answer!” Undertaker chirped, waggling a finger in Bard’s face. Then he grinned. “But maybe you can answer one of these?”

The eccentric man waved his hand over the paperwork spread before him. Bard stared at it, then sighed, turning away.

“What else did you want done, gramps?” he asked. Undertaker hummed. Just as he’d thought.

“Just finish what you were doing there~” he said. He looked up as someone entered the shop. The gray haired man immediately whirled around the counter, grinning manically. “And what have we here? I don’t imagine you’ve come to buy one of my specialty coffins.”

“Ha ha, I’m afraid not,” the man at the door said, smiling gently. He was short, with messy, shoulder width black hair and a blindfold over his eyes. Bard looked at him curiously. He wasn’t human, that much he knew. 

“It’s been some time since I last saw you, Carmen. Sorry about your eyes, they were always so wonderfully intense when they glared at the world,” Undertaker said. Carmen laughed.

“You would recall that, wouldn’t you? Most everyone does,” the man said, taking a step forward. Undertaker actually seemed surprised.

“… so even you can change,” he said. In the blink of an eye, he bounced over to lean over the man’s shoulder. The man’s smile never faltered. “But, I wonder, what business does an angel have in an undertaker’s shop…?”

“That you already know,” Carmen said, then turned his head to look at Bard. “May I speak with you?”

Bard looked at the Undertaker. The man shrugged. The cook debated a moment, then sighed.

“Sure, why not?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you,” Carmen said, leading the way into the street. Undertaker stopped his descendant with a hand on his arm.

“Be careful. He seems to have lost his hotheadedness, but I wouldn’t let my guard down,” he said. Bard nodded, then continued out the door.

“Was he warning you about me?” Carmen asked as Bard walked out of the shop. Then man blinked in surprise. Carmen turned to smile at him. “I’m used to it.”

“… right. Can we just get whatever this is over with?” Bard asked, setting off. Carmen followed suit. 

“All I want is to talk, I assure you,” the man said. “Though I suppose you haven’t met an angel before.”

“Can’t say I have,” Bard said, only a little bitter. He stopped in surprise at a hand on his wrist.

“I’m sorry for what has happened in your past, but the rules for angels on the mortal plane are even more stringent than those for shinigami,” Carmen said. He seemed to be staring right at Bard, despite the blindfold. The cook brushed him off, rubbing at the tingling sensation the touch left behind. 

“Whatever, can we just focus on why you’re here?” he asked. Carmen sighed, but smiled again as they kept walking. 

“I’ve been sent to convince you not to become a shinigami,” he said. Bard stared at the smaller man. 

“… what?” he asked. Carmen shrugged.

“Your mortal soul is important to the big guy upstairs, and if you become a shinigami, well…” he said. Bard shook h head.

“Well, yeah, I get that part, but… I mean, why would Heaven be after my soul?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Carmen asked, genuinely surprised. Bard stopped dead in his tracks. He stared.

“I sleep with a demon, a male demon, on an almost daily basis,” he said. “My job is basically a hired killer. Does none of that mean anything to you?”

“Amnesty is being offered to you by my superiors,” Carmen said. “I don’t actually I agree with them, but I still believe that God cares deeply for you, Bardroy Chet Lewin. And, as long as you wish it from him, and love him whole heartedly, no sin can hold you here against your will.”

“… you know, you’re don’t look much like I expected an angel to look like…”

“You’d figured I’d be taller, right?” Carmen asked, smiling. Bard paused, then snorted, which turned into a laugh.

“Well, there’s that, I guess,” he said. Then he sighed. “Listen, I don’t really want to talk about this-“

“That’s fine. I was only sent to make you aware of your options,” Carmen said, turning. “Take all the time you need, Bardroy.”

Bard watched the man walk off, disappearing into the evening crowd. He sighed, then turned to head back to the Undertaker’s shop. _What the hell? As if I didn’t have enough to think about…_

***

“… what is this?” William asked. The man standing in front of his desk held out his hand.

“Rueben Bonham, Head of the American Division,” he said. William stared a moment, then reached forward to shake. “What I have given you is the paperwork for myself and my senior agents, Marcus Wilkerson and Cynthia Cotterill. We have obtained permission to operate here in London for this month.”

“… any particular mission?” William asked, looking over the paperwork. 

“No,” Reuben replied. “We are operating as free agents outside our district.”

“Understood,” William said. The shinigami rose. “William T. Spears, supervisor of the Dispatch Division. If you have any problems, contact me immediately.”

“Understood,” Reuben said. “We will try not to be a hindrance to your work.”

William nodded. Then, outside, the two men heard a crash. William sighed in irritation, and Reuben recognized the emotion. He followed as William made his way into the hallway.

As suspected, Grell seemed to be the main cause of trouble. The insufferable redhead was glaring at a young blonde woman, chainsaw at the ready. The woman, also a shinigami, had her own death scythe out. It was a large, metal tined fan. 

“You bitch! I’ll rip your throat out!” Grell shouted, charging. The woman laughed, dodging.

“I think it’ll be hard to do that with a chainsaw, honey,” she said, hitting the other shinigami’s back with the flat of her fan. William adjusted his glasses, prepared to deal with the situation. Reuben beat him to it.

“Cynthia, put your scythe away, now is not the time for games,” the man said. 

“Aw, but it was jus’ gettin’ fun!” the woman whined, putting her scythe away none the less. She hopped over to stand at Reuben’s side. They were joined by another shinigami, a brown haired male whom looked bored.

“Sorry, Reuben, I tried to stop her…” he said. 

“Do better next time,” Reuben commanded. The guy just shrugged. 

“William~!” Grell cried, jumping at the other shinigami and missing. “It was horrible! That woman said-!”

“Aw, I was only jokin’!” Cynthia suddenly said. “Yer a beautiful woman, I was jus’ itchin’ for a fight, is all, and you looked stronger’n Marcus so I thought I’d instigate a bit.” 

“Cynthia, that kind of behavior is unacceptable,” Reuben said. The woman sighed. 

“Yessir,” she said. “Sorry, honey, I’ll be more honest next time.”

“So, are we heading out or what? Offices are always boring…” the other shinigami said. Reuben sighed, then turned to William.

“I apologize for my subordinate’s behavior,” he said. “We shall be taking our leave now.”

“… as you will. I expect reports at least once a week.”

“Understood,” Reuben said. Then he turned. “Let us go.”

“Finally…” the guy, presumably Marcus, said, trailing after Reuben. Cynthia waved. 

“See y’all later now!” she said. William and Grell watched in relative silence as they left. 

“Who the hell were they?” Grell asked. William snorted, turning back to his office.

“Americans,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's play connect the dots.

Jeremiah was a slender man, with light brown hair. He was closing up his tailoring shop for the night, just as he did every night. But, unbeknownst to him, he was being watched. 

The woman purred. He wasn't really her type, she liked a man with some actual muscle, but he was an easy mark. It was unlikely anyone would come looking for a poor tailor. She sashayed over to him, and he jumped back against the door when he turned to find her.

“I'm sorry, did I startle you, sugar?” she asked, affecting a southern accent. She stepped closer to Jeremiah, and he blushed and swallowed.

“Uh... it... i-it's fine,” he said. “C... can I help you, miss?”

“I'm just a little lost,” the woman said, pressing up against him. This will be easy, she thought. “I could use a little help finding my inn.”

“Ah... um, sorry I... I don't really know where the... uh, inns are,” Jeremiah said, trying press himself into the door. The woman giggled, and reached up to stroke his cheek.

“Maybe you could just take me home with you, then...?” she suggested, and the man gulped, clearly distressed.

“Jeremiah,” a cold voice said. Jeremiah looked to the side and sighed in relief.

“Dre,” he said. The woman glared at the interloper, then paused. Dre was an exceedingly tall man, and built like a wrestler. But that wasn't what held her attention. The man stormed up to them, and punched a hole in the brick next to the door.

“ _Liza,_ ” he said, through clenched teeth. The woman smiled.

“ _Dre,_ ” she said. “Not that it really matters what you're calling yourself. Mutt.”

“Let him go,” Dre said, with barely controlled rage. Liza giggled.

“Or what?” she asked, running her hand down Jeremiah's chest. Dre grabbed her by the hair and tossed her into the street. She was so surprised she didn't manage to stop him.

“Get out of here, Jer,” Dre said. His gray eyes were growing black, and horns and a tail were starting to grow from him. Jeremiah stuttered nervously, but ran. Liza laughed, and looked up crazily at Dre.

“Oh, you'll pay for that, mutt,” she said.

“Try me,” Dre replied, and they both attacked.

***

“Apparently there was an attack on a tailor last night,” Ciel said, reading the paper as he sipped his tea. 

“Shall we start there, then, young master?” Sebastian asked, smiling. Ciel nodded, setting down his tea. 

 

“There's an interesting part to the attack,” the young earl said, standing and walking towards the door.

“Oh?” Sebastian asked, moving ahead deftly, retrieving the young master's coat. 

“There seems to have been a lot of collateral damage to the street, but the tailor's shop is nearly untouched,” Ciel said, letting the butler put the coat on him. 

“How very intriguing,” the butler said. Truthfully, that bit of information really didn't interest him at all. He wasn't terribly interested by the case at all, to be completely honest. Sure, it was one of the more interesting cases the young lord had gotten from the Queen, but at the moment, the butler had other thoughts on his mind. Ciel nodded.

“We will be meeting the detective from Liverpool at the scene,” he said, walking outside as Sebastian held the door open. “Hopefully he won't be terribly tedious.”

“He has already shown himself surprisingly capable in comparison to his peers,” the demon pointed out. Ciel sighed.

“I suppose you have a point,” the earl said. They walked in mostly silence as they wound their way through London. When they arrived at the scene, Ciel had to stop and stare.

The entire street was torn up. Buildings had holes smashed into them, street lamps were bent and deformed, some even ripped up from the ground. Chunks of the street were pulled up, and there were even one or two craters. The police were taking pictures of all damage, and there was a crowd of onlookers gawking.

“I would say that is a considerably amount of collateral damage,” Sebastian said. “It would be difficult to believe a human could generate it.”

“... indeed,” Ciel said, and walked forward. A blond officer jogged over to them, stopping just in front of them.

“You must be the Earl Phantomhive,” the man said. He extended his hand. “Detective Munson, of Liverpool.”

“I can tell you don't have any experience with the aristocracy,” Ciel said, frowning at the man's hand. Munson laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Can't say I do,” he said. “I take it aristocrats don't shake hands, then?”

“Not with inferiors,” Ciel said. Munson nodded, then pulled out a small notebook. 

“To the case, then,” the detective said. Sebastian was actually surprised at the man's ineffability. “The perpetrator always goes after adult men, usually of a muscular build. They have blond or light brown hair, and three of them are prior military. They've all been killed in their own homes, with no sign of forced entry.”

“Surprisingly efficient, detective,” Ciel said, looking over the notes the man handed him. 

“Thank you,” Munson said, crossing his arms with a wry smile. 

“Have you spoken with the tailor yet?” the earl asked. 

“I was told you'd be prickly if I did,” Munson said, making some nearby officers flinch. “Then again, I was also told you'd be prickly if I _didn't_ , so I decided just to wait.”

Ciel smiled coldly, handing the detective back his notes.

“Thank you for your consideration, detective,” he said. “Sebastian, look around the shop while we question the tailor.”

“Of course, young master,” the butler said, faking a smile. There was something about the victims that bothered him... light haired, muscular, prior military... it seemed like a very large coincidence that the description aptly described Bard. And the butler didn't believe in coincidences.

Detective Munson held the door for Ciel, and the three men entered the relatively unharmed shop. The tailor was at work, adding embroidery to a coat sleeve. He looked up without missing a stitch.

“Ah, hello,” he said. Munson took the lead.

“I'm Detective Munson, and this is the Earl Phantomhive and his butler, er...” the detective looked over. 

“Sebastian,” the butler smiled. He began scanning the shop. It was cramped, with suits and dresses on display and in progress everywhere. Sebastian stepped closer to one work, examining it. It was surprisingly good work, for a tailor of no reputation. The demon looked behind the counter.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions about last night,” Munson said, flipping to a new page in his notebook. There were two children and a man in the back of the shop. The man was asleep in a chair, the little girl curled up in his lap. The boy had wandered up and was resting his arms on the table.

“Is it alright if I work while you do?” the tailor asked. Munson nodded.

“To begin, what is your name?” the detective asked. Sebastian stared at the man in the back. He took a deep breath, and his eyes glowed briefly. Then he smiled slightly.

“Jeremiah,” the tailor said. “Ah, this is Thomas, and is the back is Sarah and my... uh, friend, Dre.”

“Were they here for the attack?” Munson asked, writing everything down. 

“N-no,” Jeremiah said, glancing back. “Just me.”

Sebastian increased his presence, just a bit. Sure enough, the demon in the back felt it. He opened his eyes slowly, then looked at Sebastian. He was still a moment, then moved, putting Sarah in the chair alone. He put his hands in his pocket as he walked to the front of the shop and around the counter.

“O-oh, Dre, these people are with the police...” he started. Dre smiled at him disarmingly.

“Well, hopefully they'll catch whoever did this,” he said. “I'm just going out for a smoke, I'll be right back.”

Dre glanced at Sebastian sidelong as he walked past. He didn't say anything, but the message was clear enough. _Not where humans can hear._

“Sebastian,” Ciel said, after the man had walked out. The butler bowed.

“Yes, my lord,” he said, and walked out after the man. He followed his scent around the corner, into a narrow alley. The man leaned against the wall, watching the street on the other side. When Sebastian got close enough the man faced him, straightening.

“Well, here's a surprise,” he said sarcastically, and bowed. “Who'd think a lowly mutt like me would get to meet the great Mikhail?”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Sebastian said. “As I doubt 'Dre' is your real name.”

“Mico,” the demon said. “But Dre for now.”

“I've heard of you. You've survived longer than most mutts,” Sebastian said. “Since ancient Greece, was it?”

“If you don't mind,” Dre said, frowning, “I'd rather talk about now. Like why a demon is working with the police. Especially a pure-blood like you.”

“My employer is the Earl Phantomhive,” Sebastian said. “It is he that is working with the police, on behalf of the Queen.”

Dre whistled, shaking his head.

“Wow, all for us commoners,” he said. “Tell me, if it wasn't a serial killer, would the Queen still send her Watchdog for us?”

“I grow impatient, mutt,” Sebastian said. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was another pure-blood, a woman,” Dre said, leaning against the wall again. Sebastian noticed he was favoring his right leg. “She usually prowls the Americas; I don't know why she's in London. Her name is Elisabeth, but she prefers-”

“Liza,” the butler said, eyes widening in realization. Dre blinked in surprised.

“You know-?” he started. Sebastian schooled his face, but couldn't stop his eyes from glowing.

“Of her,” he said. Then, with a smile, he punched Dre in his left thigh. The demon gasped, falling over in pain. “And I would ask that in the future, you refrain from insulting the Queen. The young master is quite fond of her.”

“Godd-amn...” Dre swore, clutching his leg. Sebastian watched him a moment, then leaned down.

“A mutt shouldn't be fighting a pure-blood,” he said. Dre glared up at him. “It's unsightly.”

“Is that a threat?” Dre asked, controlling his breathing. Sebastian smiled, standing. 

“Just a friendly piece of advice,” he said. “Leave Liza to us.”

Dre muttered something, but Sebastian didn't care to listen. He walked back to the front of the shop as Ciel and the detective were leaving. Ciel excused him, and Dre came around the corner as the earl and his butler passed by. Sebastian glanced at him, but the mutt ignored him, already in character to talk to the detective. Sebastian didn't think he was going to leave the case be, but it was no real concern of his. The mutt could get himself killed if he wanted.

“What did that man have to say?” Ciel asked. Sebastian glanced at his master.

“It was a demon,” he said. “One named Liza.”

“That name sounds familiar...” Ciel said. “How did he manage to stop her?”

“He is also a demon,” Sebastian said. Ciel paused.

“You mean to tell me that there are two demons running loose in London?” he asked, angry. Sebastian shrugged.

“There are probably more,” he said. “But they're mostly mutts, and get themselves killed quickly.”

“Mutts?” Ciel asked. Sebastian sighed.

“There are two kinds of demons,” he said. “Mutts, like the man we just met, and pure-bloods, like me. And Liza.”

“What's the difference?” Ciel asked. 

“Mutts do not consume souls,” the butler said. “Convenient, I suppose, but they are rather weak for it.”

“And why do they get killed so quickly?” Ciel asked, resuming his walk. 

“Because most of them are too stupid to hide the bodies, and the angels find them,” Sebastian said. Ciel snorted. 

“Angels?” he asked. “What good do they do?”

“More than you would suppose, given their... infrequency,” Sebastian said. Speaking of which, he could sense an angelic presence nearby, but where? He scanned the crowd, and caught sight of it. 

Carmen smiled, and actually waved at Sebastian. The demon stared for a moment, then decided to let it go. If an angel wanted to fight him, they would. But it would do no good to instigate such an occurrence. Besides, it would be difficult to assure the young master's safety in such a situation.

Ciel snapped his fingers, startling his butler.

“That's it!” he said. “Liza was the name of the demon Bard mentioned. Were you not going to tell me?”

“You did not ask, young master,” Sebastian replied coolly. Ciel scowled. 

“Very well,” he said. “In either case, it appears Bardroy is the intended target, and we should take appropriate measures.”

“Such as?” Sebastian asked. Ciel glanced at the butler sidelong. 

“Well, as I hardly think you'd approve of using him as bait,” he said. Sebastian almost hissed. Almost. “Then we should at least warn him. Since I'm sure he's staying with the Undertaker, he's probably safe as he would be with us.”

“... yes, my lord,” Sebastian said, following as Ciel changed course to head for the Undertaker's shop.

***

Bard had finally started looking through the shinigami paperwork. There were a lot of rules he had to agree to; the biggest of which was the most troubling to him.

If he became a shinigami, he would have to give up any and all relationships with anyone not present for his death. It was big choice. He set the paperwork aside for a moment and sighed, running his hand through his hair. 

He could be a shinigami... or he could go to heaven. He didn't really think the choice would have been so difficult. It would have been easier to choice between hell and being a shinigami. In that case, he probably would have already decided. But with heaven as an option...?

The cook jumped as a man materialized in front of him. It was a demon, clearly. He was tall, with long white hair. He was actually albino, and wore a white suit. He glanced down at a list in his hand.

“Are you... Bardroy C. Lewin?” he asked, looking up. Bard put his hands on the counter to steady himself.

“Yeah, that's me,” he said. The demon smiled. That was never a good sign. The man walked forward, extending a hand.

“I'm Pyrrhos,” he said. “Mikhail's steward.”

“Mikhail?” Bard asked. Pyrrhos frowned, taking his hand back. The demon looked up.

“What do you know him as... ah! Sebastian!” he said, smiling brightly. 

“Sebastian has a steward?” Bard asked, even more confused. Pyrrhos laughed.

“Of course. He couldn't just let his estates go to ruin while he roamed the mortal plane, could he?” he asked. Bard just stared. Pyrrhos sighed.

“Alright, I'll cut to the chase,” he said. “On behalf of my employer, I've worked out a deal with the man downstairs.”

“What kind of deal?” Bard asked. Pyrrhos was next to the cook in an instant, sliding a piece of parchment in front of him.

“So glad you asked,” he said, seemingly not offended at the cook near jumping away from him. “If you sign this contract, upon your death, your soul will be moved to Mikhail's estates, and, by proxy, you will be able to attempt to become a minor demon.”

“... excuse me?” Bard asked, looking down at the contract. Pyrrhos walked away, flicking some hair over his shoulder. 

“I can understand why you don't trust me, but look at it this way,” the demon said, turning to look at Bard. “Heaven wants you. The shinigami want you. Hell isn't going to just sit by and twiddle their thumbs, you know.”

“So, what... this is all some kind of game for one-up manship?” Bard asked.

“Pretty much,” Pyrrhos nodded and shrugged. 

“Goddammit...” Bard said, resting his head on his forehead. Pyrrhos smiled. 

“Well, the choice is up to you. Ta!” and with that, the demon disappeared. Bard sighed. Because, clearly, he hadn't already had enough to think about. 

“I need some air...” he said to himself, rising. He took the contracts and put them with his things, then stretched before he walked outside. 

Where he was almost immediately tackled.

“Bard!” Cynthia said happily, grinning at him.

“Cynthia?” he said in surprise, then looked up and grinned. “Marcus and Reuben, too?”

“Hey,” Marcus said, hands behind his head. “We heard about you go your paperwork, so came to visit.”

“I appreciate it,” Bard said, standing and helping Cynthia to her feet.

“Ya haven' been up ta trouble with us gone, have ya?” the female shinigami asked. The cook laughed.

“Well, you know me,” he said.

“So that's a yes, then,” Marcus said, looking the other way. 

“I hope you are well, Bardroy,” Reuben said. Bard smiled.

“Thanks, Reuben,” Bard said. “The same to you.”

“So, have ya made up yer mind yet?” Cynthia asked.

“Cynthia,” Reuben warned with a frown, but Bard waved him off.

“To be honest, it's all gotten a little... complicated,” he said. 

“Oh?” Cynthia asked. “How complicated?”

“Well...” Bard started.

“Heads up,” Marcus said, turning to face the pair approaching them.

Bard blinked in surprise at Ciel and Sebastian as the two walked up. Sebastian took in the scene with a still expression on his face. Bard scratched the back of his neck.

“Uh, is, somethin' wrong...?” he asked. Cynthia went to stand near Marcus and Reuben, and the shinigamis watched as Ciel and Sebastian walked up to him.

“There's a serial killer on the loose,” the Earl said. “And she's after _you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well... uh... i did it?

**Author's Note:**

> hah... been a long time coming, this fic. i just hope everyone who's been waiting for it enjoys it as much as the first two...


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